


One Last Thing

by notjustmom



Series: Sherlock Christmas Ficlets 2017 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:49:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: prompt 18: Christmas crackers / Favorite tradition





	One Last Thing

**Author's Note:**

> A year after The Unexpected Visitor...

John stood at the window, watching as Sherlock bundled his parents into a cab, as the snow finally began to fall. A white Christmas... barely. Five minutes until midnight. He listened as he heard the street door close, Mrs. Hudson whispered a few a words to Sherlock and then the light footsteps flew up the steps, taking two at a time, and he was whistling a Christmas carol as he walked into the flat, then leaned against the door, pressing it closed.

"Whew. Well, that was tedious." Sherlock dusted the snow from his hair and shrugged out of his coat, then hung it up, carefully.

"They had a lovely time. So did you." John muttered lightly from his place at the window.

"Yes. Well. Can you come over here for a moment?"

John turned then and tried to read Sherlock's face. He had to admit that he was still learning this new Sherlock who had returned a year ago today. He hated anniversaries - they always seemed to - he shook his head, then moved quietly to where Sherlock stood, a slight smile dancing on his lips, and realised they were standing in the same place where Mrs. Hudson had found them last Boxing Day. If Sherlock had become not ridiculously romantic over the last year, he had at least realised sentiment had its place; John snorted as he looked up to see a tangle of mistletoe hanging above them. He wondered for a moment how he had not seen it all night and how Sherlock had managed to hang it - when he felt strong, steady hands in his hair and his breath was stolen by a kiss of such - he realised he didn't have a word for it as he nearly swooned away - yes, he admitted it swooning was something he found himself doing of late.

Sherlock's laughter broke into his thoughts as he guided him to his chair, sat him down, then pulled his own chair closer. "I know tonight has been full of - well, by most standards, corny sentimentalism, and I won't apologise - in fact, this whole night has been an apology - I wanted to - I know how you feel about anniversaries, and I picked one hell of a night to return to you - I wanted this Christmas to be different from last year, and the other Christmas - when I didn't know how... so, one last thing." He pulled out a brilliantly wrapped cracker that simply sparkled in the firelight, almost too beautiful to break. "Will you open this with me?" He asked in a hushed voice, almsot bashful, John considered briefly, as he took the other end, and together they pulled, scattering glitter, which they will find remnants of for years to come over them; a paper hat fluttered to the floor and a small velvet box tumbled into John's hand.

John's hand trembled slightly, then stilled.

"I never - those nights when I didn't think I'd ever be in these rooms again, I thought of you, all those times when I should have told you, the moments I missed - I was - I didn't think you could ever see me as someone to love, I didn't know -" Sherlock stopped as John slowly opened the box and looked into Sherlock's eyes.

"Ask me."

"I had - a speech - took me days -"

John shook his head and whispered, "ask me? Please?"

Sherlock nodded and fell to one knee carefully, then took John's hand and cleared his throat. "John Watson, my friend, my partner and my heart, will you - I know it's a bit conventional, but will you marry me, please?"

John bit his lip, then nodded. "Yes, Sherlock Holmes, my love, my light, my everything - shhh - don't, of course I will." He kissed a single tear from Sherlock's cheek and moved to the floor, wrapping his arms around the man who was now weeping openly against him. He trailed his fingers gently though the beautifully tamed curls, so different from last year, sighing quietly as he noticed one or two silver strands that shimmered in the fading firelight. He kissed his hair and whispered with a grin, "we're a year older, let's actually make it to bed before we fall asleep, hmmm? Not sure my knees can take it, and as used to us as she is - I'm not sure how well Mrs. H would take finding us on the floor again."


End file.
